Chapter 7
Gillian woke up around six the next morning, wanting to die. She stumbled into the bathroom and saw her clothes lying in a heap on the floor where she’d tossed them after getting undressed the night before.
She used the bathroom then sat on the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands. She felt like crap. Not bad enough to puke…she didn’t think…but bad enough. She should’ve known better than to drink all that tequila. But the margaritas had gone down way too smoothly.
She remembered everything about last night.
It was still hard to believe that Walker had come to The Funky Walrus to see her…and that he’d said he felt the same crazy connection to her that she’d felt with him.
Gillian had no idea what to do now. She didn’t have a way to contact him—she’d forgotten to get his phone number before he’d left last night.
She’d look him up on social media, but she knew that would probably be futile.
If he was who she suspected he was, he wouldn’t have a Facebook page.
And he definitely didn’t seem the type to have a freaking Instagram page.
Sighing, Gillian stood and went to the sink. She wasn’t up for a shower, but she washed the makeup off her face and threw her now crazy, slept-on-wrong hair up into a bun. She shuffled back into her bedroom and pulled on a pair of black fat pants with huge yellow and orange flowers on them.
Deciding she was going to lie on her couch for a while and try to pretend she wasn’t hungover as hell, Gillian headed out of her bedroom.
She froze in the hallway when she heard someone in her kitchen.
All of Walker’s concerns immediately sprang into her mind. Maybe he hadn’t been so far off the mark when he’d said he was worried about her. Was the mystery hijacker in her apartment right this second, ready to kill her when she showed herself?
For a second, Gillian was paralyzed with fear…then she inhaled.
And smelled coffee?
Would someone hell bent on murdering her stop and make coffee first?
Confused as hell, Gillian walked silently the rest of the way down the hall. She stopped in her tracks when she peeked into her small kitchen.
Walker Nelson was sitting at her kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, holding his phone in his other hand and reading something intently. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans as the night before, but now his hair was sticking up in the back, and on his feet were only a pair of white socks.
Gillian’s heart lurched. He looked absolutely perfect sitting there in her space. She brought a hand up to her chest and pressed on her heart, feeling it thumping hard under her palm. God, this was so close to the fantasies she’d had over the last three weeks, it was uncanny.
She must’ve made some sort of noise, because suddenly Walker looked up and saw her lurking in her own hallway, staring at him. He put down his mug and phone and immediately stood. He stalked over to her, and all Gillian could do was watch as he neared.
Craning her head back to keep eye contact with him, she was shocked when he didn’t stop as he got close. He invaded her personal space and put his hands on either side of her head.
“Good morning,” he said softly, his rumbly voice making Gillian’s nipples peak.
She knew if he looked down he’d see the effect he had on her body, but he kept his gaze on hers.
“Hi,” she said after a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“There was no way in hell I was going to leave you last night. Not as drunk as you were.”
“You never left?” she asked. It was a stupid question. Of course he hadn’t. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on last night, and it wasn’t as if he would’ve left then driven all the way back to Georgetown this morning.
He grinned. “I never left,” he confirmed.
“Where did you sleep?”
“On your couch.”
Gillian bit her lip. “But it’s not that comfortable.”
Walker merely shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve definitely slept in worse places in my life. And it smells like you.”
She had absolutely no clue what to say to that, so she just stared up at him. His gaze moved from her eyes to her hair, to her lips, down her body, taking in her shirt and crazy pants.
Gillian wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor in embarrassment. If she’d known he was there, she would’ve put on some real clothes. A bra. Done something to her hair…like brush it.
Just when she was deciding if it would be weird if she pushed him away and fled to her bedroom to change, he spoke.
“I thought you looked amazing three weeks ago, after everything you’d been through. And last night, you about knocked me off my feet when you answered your door. But this? Right now? I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
Gillian’s stomached flip-flopped. “I’m hungover, not wearing a bra, just scrubbed the makeup off my face, which I should’ve done last night, and I think a mouse has taken up residence in my hair,” she blurted.
“You’re real,” Walker countered. “You look mussed and relaxed. Exactly how I’ve pictured you in my dirty fantasies.”
Gillian knew she was blushing, but couldn’t help it. “And you look as perfectly put together as you have every time I’ve seen you. How do you do that?”
But he didn’t answer her. Instead he asked, “Are you hungry?”
Gillian wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t want to cook anything in case the smell of eggs or bacon made you sick,” Walker told her, and Gillian inwardly sighed. Fuck, he was perfect. How in the hell could someone be this perfect?
“A plain bagel,” Gillian blurted. “Toasted. Dry. I think maybe I could eat that.”
“Okay, Gilly, then that’s what you’ll have,” he told her.
The sound of him using the nickname her best friends called her felt good.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a long moment.
Then he dropped his hands from her head and put his arm around her waist as he led her into the living area.
He steered her to the couch and urged her to sit.
Once she had, he shook out the blanket she always kept on the back of the couch and covered her with it.
“Stay put. I’ll make your bagel.”
Gillian watched as he strode into her kitchen. He opened her fridge and took out a bottle of water, breaking the seal on the top before walking back toward her. He handed it to her with a smile, then turned and went back into the kitchen.
She took a sip and watched as Walker started making her breakfast…such as it was. He looked completely at ease in her small kitchen. He knew where everything was and acted as if he’d been there hundreds of times before.
Lost in her admiration of Walker’s ass as he moved around her space, she blinked in surprise when he sat next to her, a plain toasted bagel on a plate in his hand. She turned in her seat and gave him a small smile of thanks.
She nibbled a piece of the bread cautiously, happy when it settled and she didn’t feel the need to puke it back up.
“We need to talk.”
His words immediately made her stiffen. It was the same four words he’d used the night before that had sent her into a downward spiral.
“No, don’t tense up,” Walker said, putting a hand on her thigh and leaning into her. “Listen to me, okay?”
The bite of bagel she’d managed to swallow threatened to come back up after all. It seemed to be stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t have said anything if her life depended on it.
“I told you this last night, but I don’t know what you remember and what you don’t.”
“I remember it all,” Gillian admitted softly.
“Right, well then, I’ll repeat this so you hear it again.
Yes, I came down here to Georgetown to let you know about the seventh hijacker.
But that was just an excuse. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
You impressed me three weeks ago. You were levelheaded and did everything right.
You didn’t panic when shit hit the fan. I wanted nothing more than to be there to reassure you and help you navigate the interviews and shit that followed.
“I’ve missed you, Gillian. Which isn’t normal, considering I barely know you.
I came down to deliver that message in person hoping that we could talk after.
Get to know each other. So I could ask you out and see if you’d go to dinner with me sometime.
I wanted to go slow, see if this obsession I seem to have with you is a result of the situation… or more.”
Gillian knew her eyes were huge in her face, but she couldn’t stop staring at Walker in astonishment.
“I knew I’d fucked up somehow when you left. I saw the light go out of your eyes, and it killed that I had done that. I didn’t know how, but it was obvious. So I found out where The Funky Walrus was located and went there with the intention of apologizing for whatever it was I’d said.”
Gillian huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, and then you found me drunk as hell, saying the most embarrassing things.”
“They weren’t embarrassing,” Walker said earnestly. “They were honest. I hate that you thought for even a second that you were just a job to me. You weren’t. You aren’t.”
“It’s okay,” she told him.
“You’re way too forgiving,” he said with a small head shake, but he didn’t give her time to say anything else.
“It was probably creepy and wrong of me to stay last night, but I never would’ve forgiven myself if someone had broken in when you were vulnerable, or if you’d have puked and choked in the middle of the night.
But I can’t be sorry, because I got to see you like this…
” His eyes dropped, and Gillian knew he could see her hard nipples through her T-shirt.